Marauder of the Apocalypse
Chapter 151: Winter

I locked myself in the room and did nothing but write. Ignoring whatever my marauder companions were doing, I busily moved my pen across the notebook.

I drafted the fundamentals of raiding, refined that draft, and finally made multiple copies of the completed text by writing it over and over.

The mindset of staining people's hearts with malice and venom. The methodology of using malice and venom effectively for raiding. Instructions for making various weapons for that methodology. The fundamentals of raiding completed with examples from all the situations I had seen and experienced.

Meanwhile, companions would sometimes bring me meals, and occasionally I heard them shouting or crying miserably.

One day, then another—as time passed, my companions seemed to gradually accept the situation and find their own paths.

Scratch, scratch—finally putting the period on the last copy of my raiding fundamentals, I glanced sideways at the window.

"The snow has stopped..."

A week had passed. The heavy first snow that had fallen like a blizzard had stopped, and even the occasional light snowflakes had ceased.

Beyond the window stretched a winter sky cleared of dark clouds. Under the pale sky, the city, resembling ruins, was completely blanketed in snow. A world bleached white.

It was time for my marauder companions to move. Whether continuing to escape the city or turning against each other.

Sure enough.

Bang, bang, bang!

Gunshots rang out in succession. Not an attack, but internal strife. There was no sign of movement in the pale street, and the gunshots came from inside the building.

I grinned as I pulled out my pistol.

"Division? Interesting."

Our marauder organization was split between the infected and the uninfected. Division was inevitable.

What I was curious about was who had taken control. Who would replace me? Who had caused the division, and by what method had they purged their opponents?

I lightly swung my pistol as I waited for unwelcome visitors, and soon the victor of the civil war opened the door and carefully stepped in one step at a time.

It was the thug mercenary. Behind him stood the cup noodle mercenary with downcast eyes, aiming his rifle at me.

"Have you been well? What have you been doing?"

Despite having blood spattered on him, the thug mercenary greeted me as usual, displaying a docile demeanor as if he hadn't harmed a fly.

I looked at them with interest, then fixed my gaze on the cup noodle mercenary.

"You. I thought you were infected. Ah. Your son wasn't infected?"

I could understand the situation now.

The uninfected thug mercenary had become the new leader, gathered as many people as possible, and purged the infected.

The uninfected would naturally have followed the thug mercenary in search of survival, and some infected seemed to have fallen for his words as well.

The cup noodle mercenary muttered as if to himself, unable to meet my gaze.

"Boss. I'm sorry, but... my son has to live, doesn't he?"

It seemed he had joined the thug mercenary's surprise attack in exchange for promises to take care of his son. A quite cunning method, typical of the thug mercenary.

I waved my pistol around, then turned my gaze back to meet the thug mercenary's eyes. He intrigued me as someone I couldn't quite figure out.

"I'd like to crack open your head and see your thoughts. What do you want?"

A person who seemed similar to me, yet I couldn't understand what he was pursuing in life. If he was after power, he'd had several opportunities to rebel against me. But he didn't seem to enjoy raiding either.

I really couldn't understand what thoughts drove his life.

The thug mercenary answered in a calm voice.

"Nothing in particular. I have no reason to live, but no reason to die either, so I just keep on living."

"That's... disappointing."

So he was just someone who lived without purpose. I had hoped he would become something like my successor and continue raiding.

After brief consideration, I tried to think positively.

'Still, not bad.'

At least he was someone like me, without moral concepts. In fact, without intentions like enjoyment or self-realization, he might coldly commit even more terrible acts than I would, solely for the sake of survival.

"Take it."

"What's this?"

I tossed a copy of my raiding fundamentals onto the floor. The thug mercenary looked at the bundle of papers on the floor with subtle wariness.

As if looking at a bomb rather than paper, he even took a step back. His expression showed fear that I might be using this as a means for some new scheme.

I waved my hand dismissively.

"Think of it as my will. I wrote about what thoughts drove me to do what I did—it'll be useful when dealing with people. Even if I die and become a zombie, my ideas should live on."

"..."

The thug mercenary hesitated momentarily, then obediently bent down to pick up the papers. At that moment, I aimed my pistol at the crown of his head. His movement stopped.

I moved closer and whispered softly.

"Pick that up and stand. Then turn around without trying anything."

I still had much to do. At this rate, I'd die at his hands, but I couldn't just passively accept that. I disguised it as a leader's final testament to lower his guard, then threatened his life.

The cup noodle mercenary fidgeted nervously, placing his finger on the trigger, while the thug mercenary slowly picked up the raiding fundamentals, rose to his feet, and looked into my eyes.

Suddenly, the thug mercenary let out a hollow laugh.

"You'll be a zombie in two weeks. Are you going to be like this until the end? Why not die cleanly here?"

"I have a lot to do in those two weeks. Now that I've become a virus generator, I should enjoy the rest of my life."

A week had passed. Now I could infect others with my breath. Having gained poison as a weapon, shouldn't I use it thoroughly?

The thug mercenary flipped through the papers and nodded.

"This will definitely be helpful."

"Then get going. Change your route and destination too. Jeon Do-hyung leaked information to the alliance."

"Is that so?"

Speaking to convey that I had no time to waste with him, the thug mercenary examined my head. He seemed to be considering whether to kill me. I offered him an incentive.

"I'll hold them back. I need to kill as many as I can before I die."

Suggesting that keeping me alive would be beneficial to him, the thug mercenary blinked.

"Is there anything you need?"

"Two weeks' worth of food. Plenty of lighters. And lots of candy."

"I don't know what you're planning, but I'll support you. ...Let's go."

With that, the thug mercenary turned and walked away one step at a time, and the cup noodle mercenary lowered his gun with relief, then bowed his head.

"Thanks to you, my son and I have lived without want. Thank you."

"No need to thank me. By the way, you'll become a zombie soon—what are you going to do?"

"When the time comes, I'll have to leave alone, what else can I do? ...If we meet when I'm a zombie, please treat me well then too."

I smiled faintly. I waited without dropping my guard until they left, and watched the survivors busily moving away.

'The real estate guy survived. Did Gloomy die?'

Though the group had shrunk considerably, they still had plenty of weapons and food. With fewer people, each survivor's share of food had increased. They also had the machine gun.

They would probably continue as a fairly decent marauder group somewhere else.

The snow that had fallen covered the roads in white. Corpses and garbage were buried beneath the snow. My companions walked with difficulty, step by step, along that path.

I watched their retreating figures for a moment, then began preparing my own things.

"I should get moving too."

I packed the food they had left into a bag, along with copies of my raiding fundamentals. I also unwrapped individually packaged candies, put them in a glass jar, spat on them, and mixed them together. I stuffed all the lighters into my pockets.

Finally, I looked around the empty house.

A house where I remained alone. No one left by my side. Silent and cold. I couldn't help but smile.

'I will die and disappear, but people who raid as I taught them will remain.'

That was enough.

***

My tasks weren't anything special. Being just one person with limited capabilities, I needed to focus on turning more people into threats.

Having removed my mask, I enjoyed the crisp winter air as I wandered around the city all day. Looking for someone to give my raiding fundamentals to, looking for someone to pass on my malice to.

"Why is it so hard to find anyone."

I grumbled as I walked. My feet sank deep into the snow piles. Perhaps because the road conditions were so poor, people were hard to find.

But using the keen eye I had learned from Park Yang-gun, I tracked signs of people. Footprints in the snow and snow piles that had been scooped out, probably for drinking water.

I followed these traces straight into an abandoned commercial building and encountered a group of zombies.

"Kraaak?"

Several zombies wearing tightly squeezed clothes huddled together like penguins, shivering. They showed signs of wariness upon seeing me.

I grinned.

'Found them.'

One of my targets. A group of zombies.

The zombies didn't react violently to me, an unmasked person, perhaps seeing me as one of their kind, but they didn't welcome me warmly either. They seemed to covet my good clothes.

"Kraak."

The shivering zombies approached, ambling along. I reached into my pocket, took out a lighter, and lit it. Then I set fire to the garbage scattered around.

The zombies' eyes lit up like people who had found what they'd been searching for, and they immediately began grabbing garbage and throwing it into the flames, building the fire.

'Have they used fire before?'

They knew how to use fire. They must have previously encountered something like a survivor's bonfire. They just didn't know how to start a fire.

That made things a bit easier.

When I tossed them a few lighters and demonstrated how to use them, they immediately began using the lighters.

I looked at the zombies with satisfaction.

'This way, they won't freeze to death in winter.'

Rather, they would become resource-wasting monsters. They would burn unused clothes, furniture, possibly mechanical devices, and eventually firewood that humans could have used.

My city-burning attempt had failed, but I would leave embers behind. Let zombies and humans compete for firewood.

The zombies sat around the decently sized fire.

"Kraaaak!"

I let out a monstrous cry for no reason, then joined them and taught them a few more skills. How to make slings using shoelaces and fabric, how to load firewood into those slings and throw them.

Having taught everything I wanted to teach, I got up. I needed to share fire with more groups of zombies.

"Kieaak."

But the zombies slunk along after me. The atmosphere suggested they wanted to accept me as their new leader.

I frowned and let out a monstrous cry to drive them away.

"Kraaaaaaak!"

I couldn't even distribute all my raiding fundamentals yet—why would I want to drag zombies around?